


My Scorpion

by Kalira



Series: Valentine's Spectacular (2017) [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, I used Kogane for Keith's last name, Keith is Bad at Social Skills, Lance is an idiot, M/M, POV Lance (Voltron), Pidge will smack some idiots if she has to, Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Shiro is the Mom Friend, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Team Voltron is Family, dysfunctional and awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9904322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Lance knows his soulmate's Mark on his wrist, but refuses to confront Keith and has given up hope he will ever be recognised in return - until his choice to stay quiet is taken away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is later than I planned! Sorry to anyone who was waiting for it. It is part of my multi-fandom soulmate AU challenge set - the tenth and final story - and would have been posted on the 20th. Then Lance had a lot to say and the boys complicated things and . . . well, here we are.

Lance dove down the stairs towards the front of the tiny lecture hall in a couple of long strides that slipped into mostly-intentional leaps. “Hey! Kogane, right?” he asked, tapping the other boy’s upper arm.

He realised belatedly - whoops - that there were half a dozen other people clustered around Kogane to talk to him even as he turned to look Lance in the eye. Lance’s breath caught as steely-blue eyes met his, thick brows angled downwards.

He looked angry but he also looked-

“Uh hi? I’m . . . also a pilot.” Lance said after an awkward pause of a half-second too long. He grinned tentatively. “I’m-” he stopped as Kogane snorted and slipped past him with a deft slide, one shoulder angled forwards.

“Aw, _Lance_.” Gregori complained. “Why did you have to do that?”

“What. . . What did I do?” Lance asked, wincing and struggling not to grab for the painful throbbing of his wrist.

“Shape up!”

Lance straightened immediately, throwing his arm up into a salute. He hadn’t even registered _which_ of his commanders had just come into view and interrupted, it was simply already instinctive. He guessed that was a good thing, since salutes, respect, immediate answers - only the last of which came particularly naturally to him, since his family’s version of respectful behaviour did _not_ stretch the Garrison’s requirements - were expected to be automatic.

Lance was kept running the rest of the day, but he was used to it now - had taken a couple of weeks, but he was used to busy days, even if not in the same way, and his _dream_ was to fly, to fly _in space_ even; he would do anything he had to, determined to make that happen. He stripped off his uniform, looking forward _amazingly_ to a shower.

His steps stuttered as he caught sight of something black on his arm and turned it upwards. He realised what it was and promptly ran into the post at the foot of his bunk, bouncing and losing his feet, falling to the floor in an ungainly heap. His eyes were still fixed on the little black design.

Lance had gotten his Mark.

 _Lance had gotten his Mark._ His soulmate was out there! His soulmate- His soulmate was _in here_ , he hadn’t left the Garrison for three weeks!

Lance’s heart sank. “I met my soulmate and I didn’t even _know_ ,” he said as realisation dawned, “how am I supposed to _find_ you?” he asked the Mark.

The scorpion - a _scorpion_? wow, his soulmate was badass, this thing was super cool and maybe a little scary, its stylised body small and angular and poised to strike with the envenomed tail or narrow claws - did not have any answers for him.

It wasn’t until halfway through his shower, hands buried in his lathered-up hair, that Lance remembered the painful throbbing in his wrist and the loss of his ability to focus at the same time, earlier. Words scattered from his head all the time, but it was usually only what he was saying _then_ , not _all the words in his head at once_.

Kogane. _Kogane_ , the best new pilot at the Garrison and the one person Lance hadn’t even been able to charm into _talking_ to him, it _had_ to be him . . . and _he_ was Lance’s soulmate?

Lance swallowed, looking at his wrist as the water pounded over him. Kogane was-

It wasn’t that he was unhappy exactly - he didn’t _know_ Kogane, but he knew Kogane was smart and a _brilliant_ flyer and he was . . . pretty, honestly. He didn’t know if he’d ever heard Kogane’s voice and he’d barely seen him, but. . .

Lance rubbed a thumb over the mark and zoned out so hard thinking about it - what was he going to do, anyway? waltz up to him and say ‘so, you triggered my Mark; _hey_ gorgeous’? - that he stayed in the shower until someone banged on the door to ask if he was trying to drown himself over his low score. Lance came back to himself enough to shout his affront back and then hurriedly rinsed his hair so he could get out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s that? Why do you have a Scorpio tattoo, weren’t you born in April?”

Lance startled and spun around to face- Blonde. Tall. A scattering of freckles over her nose. Sarah, he placed her, from one of his mixed classes; he thought she was in one of the sciences. “Uh, what?” he asked as he tried to figure out what she was asking. “Yeah, I’m- My birthday is in April, yes. Is that important?” he raised his eyebrows.

Sarah stepped forwards, closer to him. “Your tattoo,” she said, tilting her head to one side and brushing her fingers over his wrist - it throbbed painfully and Lance had to fight the immediate impulse to yank away, “Scorpio? Why?”

“Scorpio. . .” Lanced looked at the tattoo. “Uh. . . Yes, totally. My- Sister! My sister. She’s very important to me and- Well, actually I lost a bet when we were- Last time I was back home over break.” he made up on the spot. “She’s kind of terrible.”

Celia _was_ kind of terrible, Lance felt no guilt for blaming her for such a ridiculous set-up. If he _did_ have a random poorly-thought-out tattoo it very well might have been her fault.

“Your sister?” Sarah laughed and cocked her head, her long braid sliding over her shoulder with the movement. “That’s awful! I mean, at least the tattoo’s a nice one, but still.” She laughed again, and Lance awkwardly echoed her, nodding.

It . . . stung, talking about. . . He talked faster trying to divert her to a different topic. Sarah laughed and let herself be distracted easily enough, and Lance relaxed a little as she didn’t ask about the . . . ‘tattoo’ again.

“Hey, Lance! You didn’t make it to lunch!”

Lance glanced over his shoulder and smiled at Hunk. Then he blinked. “Wait, lunch is over?” he asked, looking for his tablet.

“Uh, yeah.” Hunk said like it was a mystery how _anyone_ could have missed that, and Lace sighed.

“I got caught up.” Lance said, swallowing a painful lump in his throat as he got a remembered flash of the blank look in grey-blue eyes as he’d finally gotten Kogane’s attention in the library. _Keith’s_ attention.

No reaction. No _recognition_.

Lance was beginning to wonder why he even tried when it was so clear that whatever their Marks said - he’d never seen Keith’s, but no one carried an unmatched Mark - Keith didn’t want anything to do with him, didn’t care that he _existed_.

Lance’s heart wrenched and he pressed his Marked wrist against his side as though he could soothe that pain. He pulled a grin for Sarah and bowed to her - she giggled and tossed her braid over her shoulder as she turned to walk away - as Hunk rambled on about something from his morning class.

Lance asked him what he was talking about and he protested and then started over - or possibly diverted to a different track. Lance wasn’t an engineering student and the mechanical puzzle Hunk was describing was way over his head.

“Sure thing, buddy.” Lance said, slapping his back companionably. “But it’s Kero now, for both of us, so maybe think about it later?”

Kero was tough, and if you didn’t focus in his weapons classes you _regretted it_ by god.

Lance tried to pull his own head together as they made their way towards the orange training gym.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keith panted and shed his jacket, throwing it aside, then launched back into his attack on the Gladiator, baring his teeth in a rather savage expression. Not that Lance was _afraid_ of Keith, not at all - but he always looked like he was about to go straight to biting things when he made that face.

Very hard, and possibly to the point of ripping them apart with his impressively fangy teeth.

Lance shuddered and watched warily, although he grudgingly admitted - if only to himself - he was also trying to pick up pointers. Hand-to-hand had never been his strong suit, and Keith was a graceful line that hardly ever seemed to get hit except when he was caught up in the melee with all of them, or sparring with Shiro, who could outstrip them all - possibly at once.

Lance couldn’t exactly ask him for help, but he could _watch_ Keith and try to copy some of his moves. At least he could in theory.

He startled when Shiro gently nudged him towards the spar still going on, and backpedalled rapidly only to see half a dozen more Gladiators pop up and raise their staves. Team building fights, oh how Lance hated them. Although it was possibly better than fighting solo and knowing Keith was watching him disparagingly with the others from the sidelines.

He grinned at Shiro and flashed his shield into position, promptly setting to trying not to get _pulverised_ by a setting that Allura still turned her nose up at and shouted occasionally - on bad days - about being too easy for an Altean preteen with measles or something like that. Usually by the time she made it to shouting Lance was exhausted or trying not to die too hard to listen very well or both.

Lance held his own - he _was_ getting better, but he admitted a fair bit of that was ducking behind Shiro and Keith while he tried to breathe and take _half a second to aim_ \- but he’d already done his solo training today and unlike Keith he didn’t set up five hour long sessions with the Gladiator for fun. It probably hadn’t been long of them all working as a team - and they _were_ doing amazing; _go Team Voltron!_ \- but he was wearing out.

“Keith!” Pidge yelled, and vaulted herself up, dodging the powerful crack of one of the staves against the floor. Lance suppressed a shudder, too-easily picturing Pidge’s small body crunching beneath the blow instead, and fired at the Gladiator coming up behind Shiro, taking a step backwards himself.

Keith darted under Pidge as she flew through the air and slid low, knocking the Gladiator’s feet from under it and providing a buffer for a vital few seconds while she landed, caught her breath, and rolled to her feet. She threw her Bayard’s sparking and mildly terrifying blade forwards, somehow Keith didn’t flinch _or_ run into it as he dodged the Gladiator’s swing, and Lance didn’t see what happened after that as he had to hurriedly focus solely on the pair of Gladiators closing in on him.

It was hard to shoot usefully when he was cornered at close range, but Lance kept his head and got himself out of the situation without needing Shiro to rescue him this time. He was pretty proud of himself and spared a moment to preen.

He groaned as he heard Allura’s goading voice and saw the disabled Gladiators power back on and return to the scrum, joined by three more. It cost him, as he caught a blow to the ribs before he could dodge, and he stumbled back. He brought his shield up as he gasped for breath, watching the Gladiator warily.

Keith made a face and peeled off his gloves for once, flinging the pair towards his already-discarded jacket before taking up a fighting staff he’d knocked out of a Gladiator’s hands.

Lance bulled forwards, trying to protect himself by not giving an opening, which would have _worked_ if another Gladiator hadn’t moved around to flank him. He winced as he took a hit to the thigh as well as the handful he caught on his shield.

Then he dropped back, already knowing that Keith would launch himself headlong back into the skirmish no matter who was in his path. Full-strength, fully-committed charges were his style - but it _worked_ for Keith.

Sure enough, Keith darted past Lance so fast there was a breeze in his wake only half a breath later. Lance smiled lopsidedly as he watched Keith brace the butt of the staff against the floor, using it to angle himself up, flying feet first at the Gladiator. It was a much more graceful manoeuvre than Pidge’s midair scramble to escape.

Lance also appreciated the break Keith’s offensive had given him. His ribs ached and he could hardly get a breath, and it felt like his heartbeat was choking off his throat, but now three of the Gladiators - including the two that had been steadily cornering Lance - were focused on Keith.

He moved out of the scrum and picked off one of them with three close, tightly-aimed bursts to its head and centre of mass, and Keith tossed him an almost feral grin. Lance’s heart flipped in his chest and he was nearly distracted enough to shoot at Hunk as his friend came too close. He shook it off and _focused_ again.

It wasn’t like Keith would be surprised if he immediately fucked up again - Keith actually enjoyed pointing out how useless and unpractised he was at hand-to-hand combat, Lance thought - but Lance would like to think that Keith could be a _little_ impressed by him. If he tried. He would like to preserve that delusion, anyway.

Lance caught a few more blows through the rest of the melee but he wasn’t ‘deactivated’ - or knocked out - so either his teammates had covered for him more than usual, or, as he liked to think, he’d actually gotten significantly better. He let out a low cheer, sweat dripping down his brow and from his hair, and let his Bayard downsize.

“What’s that?” Lance heard Pidge ask as he dropped down to sprawl on the floor - at this point he didn’t think he actually even cared if the Gladiators tried to break him any more, as long as he didn’t have to get up again. He was officially out of _care_. Pidge’s ability to be curious about things never failed, though, no matter how worn or tired she was.

“Oh. Lion.” Keith replied, and Lance’s brows drew together as he wondered what Pidge had been asking about.

“Did you care so much about tracking down the Blue Lion you got a tattoo?” Hunk asked, from where he was sitting on the floor near Lance.

“Wait, you have a tattoo of _my_ Lion? That’s so totally not fair!” Lance reacted instantly, opening his eyes and turning to look towards the other Paladins. Part of it was a legitimate jangle of mild jealousy, and part of it was habit - it was something to use to poke at Keith, to try and play with him.

“No.” Keith said, but not with the playful laugh or additional comment that Lance would have added. Not that it was a surprise; Keith rarely seemed to offer anything beyond the immediately necessary in conversation unless he was angry first. Or annoyed.

There was a reason Lance needled him so often. Or, well. . . There were several reasons.

“I’ve had it since before then.” Keith said in answer to one out of a slew questions from Pidge. He didn’t seem bothered by the avalanche - Pidge didn’t tend to pause long enough to let people answer when she got worked up. “It showed up my first year at the Garrison.” he added.

“Wait, is this a Mark? A _soulmate_ Mark?” Pidge asked, and Lance froze, his heart pounding again as though he hadn’t had any time to rest at all. He shot up, curling his body forwards and twisting to look at Pidge and Keith without getting to his feet. “Keith, what is it?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, I never found out who it was.” Keith said and he sounded so _disinterested_ about it, as though-

As though Lance hadn’t tried- As though. . . Lance swallowed the sudden ache in his throat. Well. It wasn’t as though- Keith was his . . . eternal rival. It wasn’t like he wanted to- or had wanted before. Of course.

Lance swallowed. He wasn’t so good at lying to himself. He’d started chasing after Keith’s record to try and get his attention almost as much as Lance had been trying to prove himself to their instructors. Keith hadn’t cared.

He could have tried again, after finding Keith again, after they had wound up here, on the Castle of Lions, but . . . Keith hadn’t cared, hadn’t _wanted_ him, hadn’t so much as noticed his existence before Blue had chosen him, apparently . . . so how could he?

Lance swallowed. Suddenly he felt sick and not at all like training. Even less than he ever did, he thought with a weak attempt at a laugh.

“Oh man.” Pidge offered, clasping Keith’s arm lightly. “So . . . your soulmate is back on Earth? And you don’t even know who. . .”

Keith shrugged, stepping away when Pidge dropped her hand and bending to retrieve his gloves and jacket. “I don’t suppose it matters.” he said like he couldn’t care less. Lance dipped his jaw close to his collarbone and folded his knees up in front of him.

“Lance?” Shiro asked, resting a hand on his shoulder, and Lance jumped, twisting away and then stopping mid-movement.

“Uh, Shiro, right.” Lance nodded shortly. He realised an instant later that his response was not quite . . . right.

“Are you all right?” Shiro asked, hand coming back to Lance’s shoulder and squeezing lightly, comforting. “You seem . . . troubled.”

Lance swallowed and shook his head before he realised he’d done it, and tried to fold his arms tighter only for his _stupid_ lanky legs to get in the way and he kneed himself in the forearm and then nearly the face.

“What’s that?”

Lance froze, half-splayed on the floor on his knees. It was Keith’s voice, not Shiro’s, and it was pitched curiously off from his usual tones. Lance looked down and saw the scorpion on his wrist fully bared - he was used to training in his armour, not his everyday clothes, but today he wasn’t wearing it, only using his Bayard and a shield. His armour was solid over his wrists and hands, his clothes slid back too easily. He wasn’t practised at keeping them over his wrist, didn’t pay attention.

Before winding up on the Castle of Lions with his new teammates he had never bothered to try hiding his Mark; no one ever thought _Lance_ the flirty goofball had a Mark . . . and Keith never seemed to notice he existed. And Keith had been gone from the Garrison for more than half a year anyway.

“You have a soulmate Mark already?” Shiro asked gently. “Your soulmate is. . .”

Lance had been trying to keep it concealed since they’d landed here together, but it wasn’t a habit yet . . . and now his thoughtlessness had backfired.

“Yeah I. . . I-” Lance broke off as Keith took a step closer. “It was years ago but he didn’t _want_ ,” he swallowed, wavering, looking at Keith and lifting his chin, “I wasn’t going to push myself where I . . . Mark or no.” he cleared his throat. “I’m a cool, suave kind of guy anyway, what do I need for-”

Despite his best intentions, his voice wasn’t quite steady. “Unlike _mullet_ over there I can actually be charming without a predestination making someone feel like they have to listen to me. Or put up with me.”

“Wait, _Lance_ \- Keith? . . .you _knew_ the two of you were soulmates and _you never said anything_?” Pidge yelped as though offended

“I _might_ have . . . wanted to beat him, but I wasn’t going to try to push myself on him when he clearly didn’t even want to register my existence.”

“Me?” Keith all but yelped, then glanced at his wrist. Lance was curious - _so_ much; he had wondered since he was a kid, everyone did, but more . . . since the scorpion made its home on his wrist. . . He’d wondered what was on Keith’s wrist, Marking him as Lance’s. That Pidge had said ‘lion’ was his first and only clue.

“You-” Lance began, then stopped. _You barely wanted to look me in the eye when I’d done nothing but try to introduce myself._ He tried to rein in his thoughts. “You didn’t want me.” he said thickly. “So I-”

“I didn’t _know_ you! Before here! Before-” Keith’s voice faltered and he looked almost lost. “You. . .” He looked at Lance. “I’ve had this for- I was _waiting_ and-”

“I don’t know. . .” Lance trailed off, transfixed by Keith’s steady, almost harsh gaze. He couldn’t say he was sorry - wasn’t sure that was even what Keith _wanted_ , but he wasn’t, anyway; Keith hadn’t wanted anything to _do_ with him, not even when Lance had just been trying to be friendly. How could he approach the other boy and try and ask for more, even with the Mark he bore linking them?

“All right,” Shiro said, startling Lance - he looked away from Keith’s dark, intense eyes and stared at the floor, “everyone out except Keith and Lance.” he instructed, and Lance’s head shot up again instantly. He stared at Shiro, betrayed. “They need to talk. And they _don’t_ need our help.”

Shiro was shooing Pidge and Hunk - and Coran, Lance realised, cringing, who was near the door - out of the training deck. Leaving Lance _alone_ with Keith.

“Yes they _do_ , they’re a mess!” Pidge protested, and Lance’s jaw tightened. Perhaps. . . He peeked warily at Keith, standing a handful of paces away now, looking not at Lance but at Shiro, with something nervous hiding in his eyes. “They- Shiro!”

“Pidge. Come on, they need to talk _between themselves_.” Shiro said firmly, splaying a hand behind Pidge’s shoulder and nudging her gently along.

“You’re _soulmates_ ,” Pidge said disbelievingly, staring at Lance, who felt very small and couldn’t find the confident mask to pull over himself, “how can you-”

“ _Pidge._ ” Shiro interrupted sternly.

“But _Shiro_!” Pidge protested, a hint of whine in her strident voice.

Shiro picked her up smoothly as she squirmed and boosted her over his shoulder. “We will leave them to sort things out together. It’s not our place.” he told her, and headed towards the doorway, where Hunk, who had been hovering awkwardly, moved off ahead of him. “It’s _their_ bond.” he continued, and Lance’s heart wrenched again.

Bond. Right.

“Shiro! Lance is an _idiot_ they’re not going to _sort anything out alone_!” Pidge yelled, her voice growing quieter as Shiro clearly kept carrying her further away. Lance swallowed and looked nervously at Keith’s boots.

They came closer, and Lance jumped, _eep_ ing, and Keith froze where he was. He heard Keith sigh, then the boots moved again, and a moment later Keith crouched in front of him, eyes closed off and wary. “You’re. . .” he trailed off, fingertips of one hand almost bracing on the floor, the other hand reaching out towards Lance.

“What do you want?” Lance asked, thready and weak. It had been meant to be cocky, careless - to brush off anything Keith might throw at him - but he . . . couldn’t manage it.

“You _knew_?” Keith asked, his voice not-quite-flat. “You knew the whole time- You knew that you were my-” his voice actually cracked then, and Lance looked up at him, eyes wide. “And you never _told me_?” he demanded, getting louder.

“You _hated_ me!” Lance said defensively, though it sent a vicious pain through his chest. It was a familiar pain - he’d known Keith didn’t care about him, didn’t even know he _existed_ much of the time it seemed like. And then Keith, his- his soulmate, though he tried not to think that way - it only hurt more - was just . . . gone.

“ _I_ hated _you_?” Keith yelled, rocking back on the balls of his feet slightly. “You have spent the _whole_ time you’ve _known_ me telling me how much you hate me, that you’ll beat me, that-”

“Not the whole time.” Lance said, his voice raw with it. Keith cocked his head, looking confused, his stupid fringe falling over his stupid angry eyebrows and his stupid gorgeous not-blue, not-grey, not-purple eyes.

“Not the. . . What do you mean?” Keith asked, his voice a little softer and slower.

“When- When we first met you didn’t even want to _speak_ to me - you barely even looked at me long enough to trigger the Marks!” Lance said sharply, folding his arms tightly. “But I just wanted to say hello - I wanted to meet you, because you were new and you were also a pilot and you were _great_ even then we already knew that and I- But you didn’t even stop long enough to hear my name.”

“. . .I didn’t talk to you on my first day in a class we shared, which I was transferred into a week late, so you decided to call me your _nemesis_?” Keith demanded, a worrying sort of pinching happening around his eyes. “Even when you _knew_ we were. . . And you didn’t even think I deserved to know that?” he asked, his voice raw and open.

“You didn’t know it was me, really?” Lance asked. Keith had _said_ \- and Lance had thought maybe Keith didn’t notice him, he didn’t _seem_ to, even after that - but really? How could Keith not have noticed the Mark when it happened? “You didn’t feel the _burning_ of the Mark coming in?”

“There were like twelve people around me then!” Keith snapped and Lance froze. He _did_ remember, then. . . “You were one of them, yeah, but how was I supposed to know who triggered it? And nobody came to find me or _acted_ different around me even - except _you_ and you _started challenging me and fighting with me all the time_!”

Lance swallowed. “I wanted-”

“You wanted someone else?” Keith snapped. “One of the girls or just someone nicer than fucking show-off, crazy Kogane who never talks to anyone?”

“I wanted _you_ , you- you mullet-brained bully!” Lance yelled back, flushed and angry and upset. “But you wouldn’t even look me in the _eye_ and how was I supposed to just _walk up to you_ \- I wasn’t going to try and force you, force _anyone_ , just because-”

Lance howled in shock and pain as he fell back, eyes wide and hands clapped over his nose and mouth. “You fucking,” Keith punched him again, and Lance yelped, falling backwards onto the training deck floor, “ _idiot_!” Keith snapped, lunging for him, and Lance tried to dodge but he was flat on his back and anyway if his-

Keith’s lips, Lance thought inanely, might look thin and almost sharp but they were much softer than his fists. Keith was kissing his brow. And his hands, though kind of hard and definitely thickly-calloused where they weren’t covered by soft, beaten leather, were much gentler now as they took hold of Lance’s own and pulled them down.

He kissed Lance’s mouth just as softly, and it stung - Keith punched _hard_ \- but Lance couldn’t really care about that.

He stared, wide-eyed, up at Keith.

“You’re my _soulmate_ , Lance.” Keith said, his smoky voice softer than Lance had heard it before except . . . maybe when he had been cradling Lance on the Castle floor, dazed from the explosion that had nearly killed him. “How could I not want that? Want you? I didn’t _know_ you . . . and I had no way to look for you. . .” his voice held a painful ache.

Keith drew back, looking away, his expression twisted and his cheeks slightly pink. Lance flailed up to a sitting position, reaching for him, and Keith looked up, the look in his eyes achingly vulnerable. He rocked back on his heels, the powerful muscles in his slim legs flexing - look, Lance tried not to fixate but he _knew_ Keith was supposed to be his soulmate and he had _eyes_ all right? - and he-

He was getting up, he was going to-

“Whoa wait!” Lance yelled, lunging to his feet a little faster than Keith had been moving and inadvertently sent them tumbling. Keith groaned quietly and reached up to rub the side of his head, wincing. Lance cringed. “I’m sorry.” he said, shifting to brush Keith’s hair away and inspect the damage himself.

He realised as he freed one hand how fully he was lying on Keith, his weight resting on the other boy and their legs kind of tangled. He’d known Keith was strong, had even been pressed up against him before, but never when he wasn’t in armour and . . . Keith was kind of small and he was slender all over, but he felt incredibly . . . solid beneath Lance.

Keith swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing jerkily, and Lance paused, his fingers nudged into Keith’s hair - it was soft and fluffy, actually it was kind of silky; Lance rubbed it between his fingers without thinking.

“Uh. . ?” Keith said awkwardly, and Lance choked, pulling his hand back and then realising he couldn’t so easily disentangle the rest of himself from Keith.

“Sorry.” Lance said again, feeling warm from his cheeks all the way down to his collarbones. “Your hair is _unfairly_ soft.” he said before he could stop himself, and Keith blinked, lashes fluttering. “I mean- Well it is,” Lance admitted, because it was true, “but that wasn’t what I was going- You,” he paused, swallowing nervously, “you want _me_?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Keith asked, tilting his head. “You _knew_ we were meant to be together, you had figured it out, but . . . you never even tried? You never let me. . .” he trailed off, his mouth curling down.

Lance bit his lip, then, with only a little bit of hesitation - okay his stomach felt like it was about to strangle his heart, but he was fine - he gently kissed Keith. His breath caught, but his fingers brushed along Lance’s face and his lips firmed under the light pressure, returning the kiss.

Lance smiled as he pulled away again, aware he was still blushing - he’d always been terribly prone to it. “How- How could I not want you?” he asked. “You’re amazing.” Then he broke off, clearing his throat and rolling off Keith, folding one knee up closer to his body as he sat up.

A moment later one of Keith’s hands slid over his shoulder. “I’m amazing?” he repeated, and when Lance looked over at him he was grinning; not his smug smile after he’d decimated his opponent in a training sequence, but something a little smaller and tentative. It wasn’t a smile Lance could be mad at, even with that question.

“Of course you are! With your- your stupid smile and your stupid hair and your stupid fantastic _flying_ \- Dios mio,” Lance rubbed his hand through his hair, “how could I not?”

Keith cocked his head consideringly, and Lance went completely still as he leaned closer, body warm against Lance’s arm and shoulder, and kissed his cheek. “You’re pretty amazing yourself. Sometimes.” he added. “And you’re actually kinda cute when you’re not being a flaming moron.”

“Hey!” Lance protested, shoving at Keith. He fell back, but his shocked face shifted into laughter and Lance’s heart felt like it had done an awkward flip in his chest. He didn’t think he’d ever made Keith laugh before, and was it a beautiful laugh, it felt warm and accomplished having provoked it. “Uh. . . Keith?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Keith crossed his legs, settling comfortably.

“Can I see. . .” he trailed off, eyes dropping to Keith’s hands, resting on his thighs. He was still wearing his stupid biker gloves.

Keith made a confused noise, lifting his hands, then stilled for a moment. He turned his right hand over, and- and the top of his glove actually buckled around his wrist, obscuring it. He unbuckled the strap and worked the leather off entirely, shoving the glove into his jacket pocket and letting the broad cuff of his sleeve fall back.

Lance swallowed nervously, reaching for Keith’s hand with both of his and pulling it towards himself. He drew his fingers over the Mark that was supposed to represent _him_ in a little bit of awe. It was a small, stylised lion, sitting on its haunches with one paw raised, looking straight ahead. Its mane was an impressive flare around its head, and its mouth was partially open - not a roar, but perhaps just preparing for one.

“I used to wonder if I would call you my lion,” Keith offered, surprising Lance - when he glanced up, he saw Keith wasn’t looking at him, but instead had his gaze firmly fixed on the lion, “when I met you. But of course not. Now.”

Lance laughed. “No, that would be a little weird.” he agreed.

“Wouldn’t want Red to get jealous.” Keith said, his usual dry humour carrying a playful cant this time, as Lance had rarely heard it.

“No!” Lance said with a shake of his head. “I- I could, though.” he added, though he realised after a moment that being called a scorpion was probably far less appealing as an endearment. Though, he looked at Keith contemplatively, it might be fitting enough - and he’d called Keith worse, for sure.

“Call me a lion?” Keith asked, his brow arching in question.

Lance startled. “Haha, no!” he denied. “I mean- From the Mark.”

“May I?” Keith asked, rubbing his thumb over the lion on his wrist and looking down. “I didn’t really see it before, I just saw that there’s something.” he admitted. Lance boggled at him, and Keith raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, right, of course!” Lance said, embarrassed by the too-long pause. He held out his left hand, seeing the surprise flit across Keith’s face - he’d been surprised, too; usually soulmates bore their Marks on the same wrist.

Keith cupped the back of his wrist, and his lips quirked before his eyes flicked up to meet Lance’s again. “So, you want to call me ‘scorpion’?” he asked.

“Uh, I know it isn’t. . .” Lance trailed off. Keith’s lips were angling up crookedly. “I mean.” he stopped. Keith’s callused fingertips drew over his Mark and Lance thought he might have said something like ‘you can if you want’ or maybe ‘I don’t mind’ or, hell, he might have said ‘don’t you dare ever’ but Lance didn’t really hear him, shuddering with the warm, pulsing, almost-pain of the feeling from his soulmate’s touch on his soulmate’s Mark.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, drawing both of his hands back.

Lance grabbed for them. “I’m- I’m fine. That just feels. . .” He shivered. Lance had known, of course, that it would be different with his soulmate, if Keith ever touched his Mark - everyone knew that - but he hadn’t known _how_ , and . . . so many people who were _not_ Keith had touched the Mark, thinking it was a tattoo or simply by mistake- “How did _you_ not-” he broke off. Not what? Drop out of reality briefly?

“It feels good,” Keith said, flushing lightly - _he_ didn’t go pink in splotches ranging from the tips of his ears to his cheeks all the way down to his collarbones, Lance saw - and dipping his head, “but I. . .” He shrugged.

Lance realised, as Keith repeated the caress, that he had actually had a low-level burning ache in his wrist before that was gone now. He swallowed. “I think- I think it was actually- It _hurt_ , because you had never- not that I’m blaming you! - and so it always felt just a little bit like someone else was touching me there. I didn’t realise.”

Keith blinked, letting Lance link their fingers with a light tug. “No one has ever touched mine.” he said matter-of-factly. “It hurts?”

So maybe everyone _didn’t_ know that. _How_ did Keith not know that? “How do you not know that? Of course someone else touching your Mark hurts! I mean, it’s supposed to be less after the- the bond is recognised, but it’s still not good.” He snorted. “I don’t really want to test it anyway. It just . . . _feels_ wrong.”

He shook his head a little. “Really, no one’s ever. . . Just me?” he asked.

“Why would I let anyone touch me if I didn’t know they were my soulmate?” Keith said blankly. “And no, of course I know that.” He made a dismissive sound. “You said it hurt _all the time_ because of that? I didn’t hurt.” He scowled like he was angry at that.

“Maybe it’s not because we took so long,” Lance coughed awkwardly, “maybe it’s . . . that other people touched my Mark before _you_ could.” Keith was still scowling. “I didn’t _want_ \- I mean I didn’t just let people. People touch me!” Lance protested, flailing his free arm. “And people think it’s a tattoo because who would think _Lance_ has a soulmate.”

“You do flirt with every female you meet.” Keith said flatly, his dark eyes flashing.

“Uh . . . not any more, baby?” Lance tried, and Keith’s expression turned into something that could rightfully be termed poleaxed. “Sorry?” he added.

Keith blinked. His lips pursed slightly, but they were twitching a little more towards a smile and Lance relaxed incrementally. He’d-

Honestly, he had never really expected Keith to know - Lance’s breath caught and a stab of pain pierced him; that was a depressing thought, that even after they had wound up here, teammates, Paladins together, he had thought. . . - and it hadn’t really occurred to him that his- his soulmate might ever have a chance to be offended or hurt by his flirting.

“Did you really mean it?” Keith asked, unfolding his legs and climbing to his feet, startling Lance.

“Uh. . . I _do_ -” Lance couldn’t quite get his words in order. “You’re my sc- soulmate. I-”

“No.” Keith said and Lance heart _wrenched_ before he continued. “The flirting. The girls. Did you really _mean_ it, or were you just. . .” he trailed off with a confused look, as though he couldn’t fathom why someone would flirt with pretty girls.

“Oh.” Lance said, and held up a hand hopefully. Keith eyed him, then clasped it, pulling him to his feet a little more easily than was quite fair considering the few inches Lance had on him - not unexpected though; Keith was stupid strong. “Not- I mean. Sort of. But not really. I’d never be able to go. . . To do anything else. Than flirting, I mean. With anyone else.” He shrugged, trying to disguise the ache he’d lived with for almost four years and looking at the floor. “I have a soulmate waiting for me, how could I. . .”

Keith’s thumb rubbed over the back of his hand, and Lance swallowed a lump in his throat. “You do.” Keith said sharply, and yanked Lance towards him. They wound up nose-to-nose, and _wow_ Keith was really hot, like not just hot, but _heat_ hot, even his mouth which was a little harsh but _amazing_ against Lance’s, and his eyes were like twelve colours of blue and grey and maybe purple and still kind of fierce for being so big and wide, with such long lashes. . .

“You,” Lance paused, “you really want me.” he said faintly.

Keith’s brows twitched. “You are still an idiot. Why am I surprised?” he asked, his tone flat. He snorted as he backed up, turning away from Lance and taking a couple of long strides towards the still-open door.

Lance darted after him, ignoring the insult. “Ah, but you,” he drew out the word, “ _want_ me!” he said happily. It occurred to him only belatedly to check - fortunately there was no one else in the hallway, they must have gone elsewhere.

Keith looked at him, and the biting reproach he might have expected was nowhere to be seen. Keith bumped lightly into him, and Lance slid his arm around Keith’s, hand drifting down towards Keith’s wrist, fingers finding the nearly-flat little plane - tough tendons and slightly angular bones under surprisingly soft skin - that held his Mark.

Keith’s breath caught, and he folded his fingers through Lance’s instead, albeit with a shy glance sideways. Lance hummed and let Keith have his hand, and as he relaxed his Mark brushed against Keith’s, sending tingles through him in a slightly overwhelming wave.

Keith hummed softly, squeezing Lance’s hand and brushing a fraction closer.

Lance thought about asking if Keith wanted to go find the others - or if maybe they should? - but he stayed quiet and let Keith lead them off wherever he chose.

He was surprised when they wound up, not in Keith’s room - or his own - but an observation deck. One that Lance hadn’t seen before, it was small and almost cosy, with circular seating sunken into the floor like smaller, contained versions of the lounge room couches, and dim lighting that let the overarching windows take your focus of the room.

Keith dropped down into one of the circles comfortably, and Lance paused - their fingers parted, and he frowned - then followed. Keith made room at his side, and Lance looked up at the stars sailing past, feeling a curious mix of awkwardness and comfort.

Keith shifted to lean against him, and Lance felt something squirmy and warm in his chest, the awkward feeling weakening. He tried to subtly nudge back against Keith and froze when he snorted. Lance closed his eyes, wincing slightly and waiting-

Keith’s fingers trailed lightly over the nearest bit of him. “You afraid to touch me _or_ talk to me now, after years of pretending it wasn’t my Mark on you?” he asked, and Lance set his jaw.

“ _Hey_ , at least _I_ actually put it together!” Lance protested, scowling. “Did _you_ figure out who-” he broke off, realising that might actually be a more painful thing to bring up than he really wanted to.

“I did look for you, you know.” Keith said quietly, turning to meet Lance’s eyes. He brushed Lance’s Mark with his fingertips. “I tried. I _wanted_ you, even before I knew who you were.”

Lance swallowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t- I’m sorry I hid.” he said, because in some ways he had, even if he’d been loud and obnoxious in almost every way he could think of.

Keith shrugged. “Here we are, all the same.”

“We are.” Lance agreed, relieved, and grinned at his soulmate. “About a billion miles from home.” he added, and Keith smiled back.

“And piloting giant, sentient, robotic Lions.” Keith added dryly. “Took quite a lot to get you to talk to me.” he said archly, and Lance had to kiss him.

“Not just my fault.” Lance said defensively against Keith’s mouth, but he forgot his argument pretty quickly as Keith shifted, his normally closed-off body language open and welcoming as he returned the kiss and let Lance close in on him.

Lance slid his fingers through Keith’s hair and smiled against his mouth at the low purr of pleasure the caress, the kiss, or the combination of the two pulled from Keith’s throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think they killed each other?” Pidge asked, sounding more idly curious than anything.

“Oh my god!” Hunk cried. “Do you think they did? Lance! Oh- Surely not, though I mean, we’re all a team - go Team Voltron, right?”

“Well, _really_ I don’t think they’d kill each other.” Pidge said contemplatively, and Hunk let out a huge, relieved sound. “It would be Keith killing Lance. I mean. It’s _Lance_ , and Keith does have a temper.” Pidge continued.

“Keith didn’t kill anyone and I’m sure they’re fine.” Shiro interjected, his voice loud and even. “Come on, eat your breakfast. We’ll see them later.”

Lance looked at Keith poutily, and wished he could be surprised when Keith didn’t really react. He made a confused face, giving a low hum and shaking his head slightly.

“Oh never mind.” Lance sighed, catching Keith’s hand - enjoying that he let it happen so easily, especially as their Marks brushed and sent happy shivers through them - and tugging him towards the open kitchen door. Besides, he didn’t like to think that it might happen like Pidge said, but Keith probably _could_ kill him in a hand-to-hand fight.

Lance was a great shot and he was getting better at up-close combat, but Keith had been good from the first time they set foot on the castle and Lance sometimes wondered if he _had_ any other pastimes besides training, maintaining his Lion, and flying.

Maybe he should be glad that Keith had never risen _too_ angrily to Lance’s needling. He’d never meant to take it so far, exactly, but . . . but when Keith was glaring at him, tossing back sharp comments to his own insults, at least Keith was . . . looking at him.

Lance paused in the doorway, looking at Keith, a thick feeling in his throat. He was glad that- That it wasn’t like that any more.

“I wouldn’t hurt you really.” Keith said, almost tentative reassurance, and Lance stifled a laugh, moving to press himself against Keith, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and still holding his hand.

Keith made a startled sound but returned the hug somewhat awkwardly - Lance wasn’t sure yet if Keith could do anything involving non-aggressive physical contact without a bit of awkwardness - and squeezed Lance’s hand.

Lance didn’t realise he had moved them into the doorway when he had not quite thrown himself at his soulmate until-

“You’re _alive_!” Hunk cried, apparently having been legitimately distressed at the thought of Lance and Keith left alone for almost a day, even - especially - after learning that they were Marked for each other. Lance wondered if he should be offended.

“Good morning, boys.” Shiro said as Lance slowly pulled back, feeling the tips of his ears warm, along with some splotches on his face. Keith’s expression was a cross between mortification and his usual stoicism that shouldn’t have been possible.

“So did you _actually_ manage to talk things out? For real?” Pidge inquired, pushing her glasses up her nose and snatching her mug back from beneath Hunk’s reaching hand. “I grossly underestimated you, then.”

“Are you expressing _doubt_ in your _stellar_ teammates, Pidge my man?” Lance asked, jutting his jaw out a little and pretending he didn’t know he was blushing.

“I’m just amazed you didn’t say anything to make him hit you.” Pidge teased back.

Keith snorted, rubbing his thumb over the back of Lance’s knuckles. Lance coughed and didn’t bring up the punching - he was willing to forgive it for the sake of the kisses that had followed. And maybe he had deserved it _a little_.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked, carefully meeting Lance’s eyes and then Keith’s.

Lance looked at Keith, who gave a shy smile and nodded. Lance grinned and opened his mouth to say something flippant, but Keith grabbed his face, covering his mouth.

“We’re good.” Keith said, propelling Lance towards the table without releasing him.

Shiro laughed. “Good.” He waved them to the table. “We’re working on formations in the Lions today,” he reminded, which was good because Lance actually _had_ forgotten, this time, “but it can wait until we’re all ready. Take your time and eat properly.”

Lance nodded, reaching for the not-toast, then startled as Keith handed him the bowl of not-quite-jam that was his favourite flavour, cradling it to his chest. Keith blinked at him, then shrugged and reached for the blue version for his own toast.

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned, this was part of my multi-fandom soulmate AU challenge set, and the prompt was 'Zodiac' - which means this story was built starting off the scenelet of someone noticing the scorpion on Lance's wrist and making a faulty assumption.


End file.
